Everything Has Changed
by CharlieGreene
Summary: "All i know since 18 hours ago is green eyes and freckles in your smile..." Mich had thought she'd be able to get through the year invisible, but she had no idea how much everything could change. A modern retelling of HoND. Quasi/OC.
1. Holidays

_**Hi everyone, and welcome to my new story. This is my second HoND fic and it's inspired by Dragon Sister Kelsi's 'On My Own', though it'll be much different (i hope). I'm continuing 'The Princesses of Notre Dame' and 'Meddling Aliens' but for the moment, this is my biggest plot bunny.**_

_**All characters in this chapter are basically me and my friends with different names.**_

_**Please enjoy :)**_

* * *

I think I'll start this story on a Friday night. It's early July, and only a few days away from the beginning of another school term. On a quiet street in a quiet town is a rather noisy house. This house is, quite literally, packed to the rafters, especially tonight. In this noisy, 'packed to the rafters' house is a bedroom, and in this bedroom are four girls.

They are surrounded by clothes, random pieces of material, scrunched up paper, and bottles and cans of drinks, which they pour into shot glasses. No, not alcohol, they're all too young for that- instead, they've chosen soft drinks. They sit around on the floor, holding up clothes, drawing sketches and downing shots, having the times of their lives before they have to go back to school.

None of them know what the upcoming school term will bring, and frankly, they don't want to think about it yet. But one thing they do know is that they will seize every moment and make enough memories to last a lifetime.

And maybe, just maybe, one of them will find love…

* * *

"So, are you gonna choose the cat or what?" I kicked away an empty can and held up a sketch. "We already have the dress."

"But the leg warmers are expensive, you said so yourself!"

"Nah, I'll get nanna to make something for you."

Emma squinted at the paper. "If you're sure about this, then whatever."

"C'mon, trust the big M. I've got you covered."

She raised an eyebrow. "I sure hope you won't ask everyone at school to call you the 'big M'. That's just embarrassing."

I laughed and put my hands up. "Do I look that stupid?"

They exchanged looks, and Dezzi smirked. "You do _not_ want me to answer that."

I tossed my head and put my nose in the air, pretending to be offended, but a second later we were all giggling. Bex put her arm around me and gave me a friendly squeeze. "Aww, Mich, you know we love you."

I leaned over and reached for a gauzy black dress which had been carelessly thrown over my wash basket, all business again. "Ok, so, are you wearing the dress or the shorts?"

Emma squinted again and put her head on the side, evaluating the dress. The only one in our group who is actually my age, Emma Slab is considered- by me, anyway- the prettiest among us. She's South African, with dark-ish skin that I swear sparkles sometimes. Her eyes are large and brown, her features pretty much perfect, her hair a gorgeous shade of brown with recently-added ombre at the bottom. Her fashion sense is probably the best of all of us, and if we weren't friends, I would probably be insanely jealous.

"I don't know," she finally says, scrunching up her mouth. "I like the dress, but I think I like the shorts better."

"I'd have to agree." Bex runs her fingers through the gauzy skirt and wrinkles her nose. "Unless you like the goth-fairy look, I'd say go with the shorts."

Rebekah McShar is the youngest of all of us. At just 14, she's stick thin, a redhead, and extremely vivacious. She loves Anne of Green Gables and is obsessed with France, even though she knows barely any of the language. The youngest in a big family, sometimes it seems that she's still just a child- but then, her random childishness is one of the things I love about her.

Dezzi, on the other hand, is a completely different matter. Desiree Jennings, 15 year old half-French horse-lover, the only one who has her head screwed on properly most of the time, manages to be insane and mature at the same time. The shortest in our group, she doesn't have the prettiest face but she makes up for it with her long, think, beautiful light brown hair and by being 20 pounds lighter than me. She the one I've known the longest and I think I can safely say she's one of my best friends.

By themselves, they all a bit quiet, a bit shy, but together- boy, we can make some noise! I remember a time when we were playing Scattergories with a few other friends, we were all yelling at the tops of our voices, debating about whether modelling is a sport. Right now, helping Emma choose a costume for the 'early Halloween' dance in late July, we were being very quiet, hoping my dad wouldn't hear us, but earlier, around the dinner table, I bet the neighbours would've been wondering what was going on.

I finally nodded and stuffed the dress back where it came from- an old plastic bag with a few wigs and a mini top hat inside. "Ok, shorts it is." I held up a hand, checking off what we need. "I've got the shorts, and you've got the top. I'll get nanna to make the arm and leg warmers, and I can make the ears myself. Are we all set?"

"I think so." Em leaned back and downed a shot of Razzberri LOL. "You know, I really wish you guys were coming with me. That way I would actually have someone to dance with."

Bex snorted, while me and Dez just shook our heads. "I've just been allowed to come to sleepovers, Em. Out-of-school-hours activities are _so_ out of the question."

"Us, too." Dezzi shrugged. "I don't mind not going out. I wouldn't know what to do with myself, anyway."

I laughed and started clearing up. "As long as I've got you guys, I don't mind not having a social life. It's a bit hard trying to explain how strict my parents are at school, though."

"Hey, at least they let you dye you hair and wear heels higher than an inch." Dez reached for her can and handed me a pile of paper. "My mom's so strict, she won't even let me get a haircut."

As the others joined in with their 'strictest parents' experiences, I realised that I actually have it pretty good. All of our families were religious, and what went to follow was varying degrees of strictness. None of our parents let us go out and party like everyone else, and only Em was allowed to attend school dances. Bex's parents scrutinised everything very carefully before they let her go anywhere and sleepovers were a relatively new thing with her. As for Dez and I, our parents were very much alike, but I had been given increasing freedom in the last few months. They may not have been as liberal as Em's, but my parents were pretty reasonable when it came to going places.

But that reasonableness didn't cover dances.

As the girls pitched in a help me clean up, Bex raised a subject we talked about every year at this time. "Who do you think will be targeted this year?"

"Ohhh, I know- David Maginnis!" Em grinned at our confused expressions. "You know, that Freshman geek? The one with the maths tattoos who only talks about Star Trek?"

"Oh, yeah, I spoke to him last term, but even I can't stand him."

Dez stared at me. "Really?"

I shrug. "All he wanted to talk about was the technical side of things. And he likes maths!"

"Fair enough." Dez shook her head. "I don't think he's worth it. What about that weird Spanish guy? What's his name, Clover or something?"

"Oh my gosh, Clopin?" I started to laugh. "He's so ridiculous! He tried to come onto me last year, but I couldn't stop laughing, so he took it as a no and ran away."

"He came onto you?" Bex raised her eyebrows and stared at me, shocked.

I crossed my arms, suddenly defensive. "What, like that's so hard to believe?"

"No, no, I didn't mean that, I mean… everyone thinks he's gay."

I shook my head forcefully. "I don't believe it. Sure, he's a bit effeminate, but I don't think he's gay. Personally, I think he's adorable, but he's not my type."

"Well, I know for sure that he won't be chosen." Em threw her can at bin and missed. "He's Esme's cousin."

"Is he?" I reached over for the nearly empty packet of chips. "I would never have guessed. But then, you can't help your relatives."

Esme Azarola- Spanish, beautiful, the only girl in the toughest gang in the school, probably 'with' all of them at the same time- was, as her last name suggests, a fox. A sly, cunning, absolutely horrible fox. She was worse than the cheer squad, who were all bad enough by themselves. Instead of the jocks and cheerleaders ruling the school, like it was everywhere else, everyone looked up to 'the gang', consisting of Esme, Andrew Hallows, Brett Locke and Phoebus James. They were, and had been since primary school, the biggest bullies in the school. And every year they would pick one person to humiliate at the dance. The entire thing would get caught on camera and uploaded to YouTube ASAP, where everyone would be able to watch it. The said person would then be picked on for the entire year, making their life a living hell until the next year, when the next unfortunate victim would be selected. This had been going on for seven years, since Esme's older sister had started it back when she was in High School.

"I've got it!" Em straightened up, eyes lighting up. "I know exactly who'll be chosen. It's so obvious!"

"Who?"

She rolled her eyes. "Who do you think? Came to school late last term, everyone avoids him like the plague, so ugly he's hard to look at properly- Don't know why I didn't think of him before. God, he's just begging to be picked!"

"Who?!" Bex still had no idea, but suddenly I knew exactly who she was talking about.

"Quasimodo!" I wrinkled my nose, remembering the first and only time I'd seen him up close. It had been the end of the day and I was getting Em's books from her locker, since she had gone home sick earlier and forgotten to take her stuff. I heard muffled laughter behind me and turned around to see a strange figure in front of the lockers- a figure hunched over and limping. I had thought that he was hurt, and so I went over and asked if he was ok. Then I saw his face. It had taken everything I had not to gasp out loud, so I quickly directed him to the locker he was looking for and got out of there as fast as I could. As I though back to that day and the people who stared and laughed as he limped by, I knew that he was exactly the victim Esme would be looking for.

"That's it!" Em laughed. "Someone must really like Disney to give him a name like that."

"Or Victor Hugo. I cannot believe how well he matches that character. You would think his parents would home-school him to avoid being bullied."

"Nah man, if they're cruel enough to name him Quasimodo, they're cruel enough to send him to school." I was about to say more, but at that moment the hallway light blinked on, and we all broke into a frenzy as we tried to get into bed before the footsteps reached my door.

When the door opened, we were all in bed, pretending to sleep. I opened one eyes to see dad, looking over the room and shaking his head at the mess before stealing a bottle of Appletiser and tiptoeing out again.

When the light was turned off, I breathed a sigh of relief that quickly turned into a giggle, and pretty soon we were all laughing like mad. When we had all calmed down, I pulled up the covers turned on my side. "C'mon, we'd better get some sleep."

The others nodded and snuggled into their mattresses, and pretty soon there wasn't sound to be heard but Dezzi's heavy breathing.

* * *

**_Alrighty, there's chapter 1! Not as good as On My Own, but good enough. Hope you all enjoyed. Quasimodo is coming up in the next chapter, so watch this space. _**

**_Please review._**


	2. Back to School

_**Chapter 2! Thanks to Kelsi, the first, and, at the moment, the ONLY reviewer, for your encouragement. **_

_**I own everything.**_

_**Please enjoy and review :)**_

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I woke up on Monday morning and stared at my alarm clock, a cold, dull feeling settling over me. Another day, another term of school was starting. What a bore.

I got up and reached for my uniform shirt and black trousers, which was laid out neatly over my bed, and rapidly dressed myself in the freezing cold. My room is the coldest in the house, which doesn't usually bother me, but right now everything was depressing.

Sitting down in front of my tiny makeup mirror, I quickly went through my makeup routine- concealer over my blemishes, tinted moisturizer all over my face, and a few coats of mascara. Compared with my friends, i wore a lot of makeup. Compared with all the other girls at school, i might as well have been wearing nothing. Personally, that was all i could've been bothered doing.

Grabbing my shoes and socks, I wandered into the kitchen and started making my lunch with my sisters, who had all gotten up about half an hour before me and were all ready for school.

"Morning, Mich." Del flashed a grin at me as she wrapped up her sandwich. "D'you want the peanut butter?"

A grunt was all poor Del got as I opened the cupboard and stared inside, trying to remember what I usually packed for lunch. Peering behind me at the fruit bowl, I groaned. "Who ate all the mandarins?"

Rose looked up guiltily from the table. "Sorry!"

Angie reached for a banana. "Take one of these."

"I'm allergic," I grumbled, grabbing the butter container and stepping over to the fridge. "Is there any ham left?"

"On the top shelf."

I took the ham and cheese and quickly made myself a sandwich, which I left on the bench with Dad's coffee. Deciding to boil myself an egg, i go the carton out and put a saucepan of water on the stove, then left the kitchen and went ot the bathroom instead.

After searching for my brush, i quickly gave my hair the once over. Peering into the mirror, I blew the air out of my cheeks as I stared into my own eyes. I was ok-looking, a bit prettier than Dez, but nowhere near as pretty as Em, and with many more imperfections (i thought, anyway). My head seemed too small for my body, so i almost always wore my hair down. Frizz only gave it more body, so i never bothered straightening it. It's current colour was it's natural brown, but i was thinking of coloring it again sometime soon, and it didn't seem to be able to make it's mind up to be curly or straight. I was fatter than all my friends-although i had lost weight since primary school- and my partly- Spanish heritage made me hairier, too. I was glad for the cooler months when i could wear long pants. My face was covered in freckles that my makeup couldn't hide, and i had my mother's nose. My large eyes were the only things i was happy with- they were a deep, dark brown with no other colors inside, and I felt them to be my nicest feature.

So engrossed was I in my looks that i forgot about my egg, and I was jolted out of my reverie by someone shouting "Who's boiling water is this?"

"Mine!" I shouted back, and bolted back to the kitchen.

* * *

I kissed Mum goodbye and joined the girls at the front gate, where we could walk in together. None of us said a word, and I think they were all feeling the way I was.

"So," I said, hoisting my bag a bit higher on my shoulder. "I think I'll go to the art room, ok?"

"Sure." Bex stuck her hands in her pockets and glanced over at a group of students who were walking into a classroom. "I should probably go to English, anyway. Mrs L promised a test just after the holidays. See you guys at lunch?"

"Bye."

"Bye."

We both headed off in separate directions, but after a few moments someone pushed me from behind, and Em appeared beside me.

"Did you just ditch Dez?" I asked her, peering behind me.

"Nah, she's going to the music room to practice. And I wanna see this mysterious art room of yours."

I nodded and flashed her a ghost of a smile. "Ok."

* * *

On the way to the art room, I ran to my locker and shoved all my stuff in except my black shoulder-bag. As I slammed it shut and got ready to leave, Em nudged me, and I looked in the direction she was pointing. On one end of the hall was a limping figure, and I could already hear the whispers and giggles. On the other end was 'the gang'. I watched with a sinking feeling as Esme nudged the boys and nodded towards Quasimodo. Something was going to happen, I just knew it.

Everything seemed to slow down. Quasimodo (whoever gave him that ridiculous name should've been sued!) kept his eyes on the ground, no doubt aware that everyone in the vicinity was looking at him. As he came closer, Andrew, Brett and Phoebus sped up, and I watched as they 'accidentally' collided with him, causing him to drop his bag and making everything fall out. Books and papers were scattered over the floor, and the sound of laughter followed the boys as they high-fived and headed for the door.

I was about step over and help him when Em grabbed me nodded in his direction. Standing in front of him, holding a book and looking for all the world like a kind, caring person, was Esme. She crouched down to help him pick everything up, then smiled brightly and patted him on the shoulder before skipping out the door. Quasimodo stared after her, as everyone started murmuring to themselves.

Em and I exchanged bewildered looks, then she glanced at the clock and started heading in the direction of the art room. I started to follow, still looking at Quasimodo as he stood up, looked at a piece of paper, and approached the empty locker next to mine. His eyes flicked in my direction, and our gazes met.

For a moment, everything was still as I examined at him properly for the first time. His face was impossibly twisted, reminding me of squashed play-dough, and his reddish hair flopped over one side, hiding what looked like a giant lump just above his right eye. His eyes were green, ridiculously green, boring into my dark ones, and he was about my height or a little shorter. Not only did he seem to be slightly hunchbacked (not as much as the cartoon character, but pretty badly), but he also had one leg shorter than the other. Overall he looked extremely awkward, like a toy that had been broken and shoddily put together.

Suddenly realizing i was staring, I blinked and took a step back, and, embarrassed, started to apologize. Not a sound came out. As I stared at those iridescent green eyes, my mouth seemed to dry up and my tongue seemed to stick to my palate. I was tongue-tied.

Quasimodo frowned a little and looked away, and the world seemed to un-pause itself. Recovering myself, i shook my head, spun on my heel and hurried out, heart beating fast.

* * *

"Well, that was weird."

I nodded vaguely as I dug in my bag for the art-room key, my thoughts preoccupied with what had just happened. "Freaky-weird."

"Esme Azarola doesn't just stop and help someone, especially not people like him. It must be a joke or a huge scheme or something..."

As Em continued to speculate, my mind went back to what had just happened to me back there. _I got tongue-tied- I never do that! Sure, I'm shy and don't usually talk to people anyway, but I couldn't speak a word! That never happens to me- unless it's someone I have a crush on or something. But why couldn't I speak to Quasimodo, of all people?_

"Hey, Mich! Earth to Michigan!" Em poked my shoulder impatiently. "How about spacing out when we've got time for it, ok?"

"Oh... yeah..." I shook my head to clear it and unlocked the door. "Here you, the art room. Nothing special, just a nice place to hang out."

We stepped into the room, and I breathed in the familiar smell of dust, musty paint and goodness-know what else- probably dangerous chemicals, but I didn't really care. This was the one thing I had missed about school during the holidays, and as I gazed around the dark classroom, I felt my spirits begin to lift. It was really only a normal classroom with a few more cupboards and a blackboard, but it was a safe haven. Only a few classes used it, most of them preferring the shiny new rooms with whiteboards that were cleaned too often, in my opinion.

Em wrinkled her nose at the smell and gingerly perched herself on the corner of a desk. "So, what do you do it here?"

I dropped my bag- containing my paintbrushes, art book and pencil case- in a cupboard and reached behind a shelf, bringing out a pile of canvasses. "These, mostly."

She browsed through the paintings, tilting her head to the side as she examined them. The top one was an almost abstract portrait of a girl underwater, eyes closed and hair floating like a halo. There was a simple red, orange and black sunset, and a bright reproduction of Monet's 'Sunrise'. A foil-and-shellac butterfly on a purple background was at the bottom of the pile, and as I reached behind the shelf for one last canvas, Em gave an impressed nod. "I knew you were arty, but I had no idea you were this good."

"Yeah, everyone seems to love the blue one." I snorted, brushing the dust off the last painting- the small palm tree in my backyard. "No idea why. I think it's the worst of the lot."

Em opened her mouth to argue, but closed it again as she realized arguing was futile. I'd always been known for undervaluing my own work- and it wasn't false modesty, either. I honestly had no idea why people praised my work- in my eyes, my paintings were nothing special.

Em handed back the paintings and eyed me, suspicious. "So how exactly did you get that key? As far as I know, it's kinda against the rules to be in a classroom after hours."

I smirked. "I... uh... liberated one from Jerry and copied it. Never even knew it was gone." I laughed and sauntered to the blackboard, where I began to draw. "The teachers know someone other than them uses this room, cuz sometimes i leave things lying around, but they have no idea who it is."

"How much time do you actually spend in here?"

"I spend Ancient History in here, and some lunchtimes."

"You skip class?"

I winked. "Don't tell anyone."

She shook her head, looking amused. "Wow, you're really serious, aren't you?"

"I shrugged, then juped as the bell went off. "Oops, gotta go!"

We quickly put everything back in it's place and hurried out. Locking the door behind me, I waved as we separated and made our ways to our first classes of the term.

* * *

_**Thanks for reading. More soon.**_


	3. Music Class and Strange Thoughts

Bit of a filler, not much to do with the story. Just a depressing day at school. I own everything except Quasi, who is actually the only one i want to own. Damn.

Please review.

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The day passed slowly, mostly with me staring at the clock through Maths Prevoc, Science, and English Comm. Even Visual Art was boring, with the teacher simply going through everything we had learned the term before. Ancient History was a breeze- once I knew that we were doing Ancient Egypt, I managed to sneak out when the teacher's back was turned. Oh, the privileges of sitting at the back of the room in the desk nearest the door! I spent the session in the old art-room, arranging my pencils for a still-life and generally moping.

Music was the last session of the day, and as I heard the bell, I considered skipping that, too. I was tired, and it didn't help that the classroom was on the other end of the school. But, figuring that if I didn't at least appear I would get in trouble, I dragged myself out of the art-room and started the walk to the music room.

Approaching the door, I heard the loud voice of Miss Basso and realized with a sinking feeling that I was late. Damn, that probably meant the only seats left were at the front. I eased the door open and peered in, and my eyes widened in surprise. No, the seats up front were taken. And so were all of them except for one at the back, which was strangely vacant. But that never happened except when the person in the next seat was-

Oh.

Ok.

I took a deep breath and tiptoed in, earning a glare from Miss Basso for being late, and gingerly sat down in the chair next to Quasimodo, who was sitting slumped with his face hidden. I took the opportunity while I was arranging my stuff to get another good look at him, and winced as I looked at his back. _Damn he's crooked. But his arms are huge- he's probably really strong. What the hell were his parents on when he was conceived to make him look like that?_

"Michigan Greene! So glad you could join us."

I spun my head to face the teacher, her loud voice having startled me from my thoughts. I had no idea how old Miss Basso was, but she couldn't have been any older than 25. Dark-skinned, petite and personally one of my favourite teachers, her stern voice didn't match her slight frame, but it helped her to keep order in class. Short she may have been, but I think everyone was scared of her. Rumour had it that she was seeing one of the Senior teachers, but I didn't believe it, since he was a lot older than her and already had a wife. But nothing's impossible, right?

"Name one characteristic of Folk music."

I opened my mouth, racking my brain for the answer, and said the first thing that came to mind. "Culture...?"

Miss Basso raised an eyebrow, decreasing my confidence by about 100 percent. She may have been my favourite teacher, but that didn't do anything to quench my fear of her. "Care to elaborate?"

"The music is related to national culture. It's... um... culturally particular; from a particular region or culture."

Satisfied, she nodded curtly. "Right. Please try to be more punctual next time."

I nodded meekly. "Yes miss."

As she moved off to torture someone else, I heaved a sigh of relief and turned to the back of my notebook, where there were pages and pages of mindless doodles, random song lyrics and bit and pieces from my stories. I loved to write, particularly fanfiction, and I had chapter parts strewn through all my notebooks, confusing the teachers sometimes when they turned up on the back of my homework. That went hand in hand with the Gallifreyan symbols and Star Trek badges that I drew in the margins of my notes. Overall, my stuff was always cluttered with drawings, and the teachers had learned long ago to ignore the 'pointless rubbish'.

While I idly doodled flowers in my notebook, my mind and eventually eyes wandered back to the boy sitting next to me, and I began to speculate. _Maybe his mum was a drunk. Maybe he was the victim of a tragic accident... no, he was definitely born that way. Oooh! Maybe his parents were related, cousins or siblings... ugh, Flowers in the Attic_. I shivered. I hadn't read it, but my mother had, and she had told me about it. In an effort to shake the images in my mind, I peered through my curtain of hair, trying to get another glimpse of his face. Unlike everyone else, I wasn't grossed out by Quasimodo's appearance- it was more like a horrible fascination to me. I parted my hair, allowing me to see better, and looked closer. _Well, he maybe be ugly, but he's got cute little ears... and he's definitely very strong..._ I thought back to our previous encounter and smiled to myself. _And he has the greenest eyes I've ever seen..._

Suddenly realizing what I was doing, I straightened up and stared straight in front, trying to follow what the teacher was saying- or trying to distract myself from thinking about Quasimodo again. _Of all the guys I could've been thinking about, I had to choose the ugly one. God, how embarrassing._

"...and I hope you've all been paying attention because there will be a test on Wednesday." Miss Basso looked at the clock and gazed around the class. "No homework for today. That's all. Welcome back to school, people." The bell rang, and I looked down at my notebook, which was empty except for a flower border. _Paying attention... right..._ Shaking my head, I gathered up my stuff and walked out the door with everyone else, pleased that the school day was finally over.

* * *

_**I know, a bit short, a bit boring, but I've been busy, ppl. Relatives and schoolwork are taxing enough, and with the holidays coming up... I'll be away for about 3 weeks, and I'll try to write a bit, but I can't make any promises. **_

_**And on that note, see you next time.**_


	4. New Leaf? I Think Not

_**I'm baa-aack! NSW was awesome but it's so good to be home :) Here's the next chapter, i worked on it while I was away, so I could get it up asap (came home just today). Enjoy :)**_

_**Oh, and a shoutout to DSK- I'm eagerly waiting for your next chapter :)**_

* * *

It was a few weeks into term, and everyone had settled into their usual routines. My back-to-school depression had faded as i began to enjoy my schoolwork- creative writing in English and a painting unit in Art. Maths was, as always, more annoying than informative, History classes were never attended, and nothing much was happening in Music, although Miss Basso had darkly hinted at upcoming special projects. I didn't know whether to dread or look forward to it.

My seat in Music had become a permanent fixture, since Quasimodo always took the same seat and no-one else wanted to sit next to him. Surprisingly, I had only copped a minute amount of teasing for this, which I could easily ignore, although sometimes i wondered if it would be different if Esme was sitting there.

We had all been shocked by Esme Azarola's seeming transformation. As the class bully through primary and high school, she had always been the first to single out fresh meat for her yearly torture. In junior primary, she had quickly established herself as top-dog, and even I hadn't escaped her target- my first and second grade memories were mostly of her and her girlfriends, Sky and Chloe Cook, cornering me in the toilets, stealing my ball and being generally mean. Thankfully my friends and I hadn't been in her sights for a long time, and we hoped it would stay that way.

But now! It seemed that whenever Quasimodo was in trouble, she was there to help him out, whether it be to pick up his books or stand up for him in class. Rumour had it that she had blown off the boys to help him reorganize his locker after someone trashed it. Was it possible that the resident mean-girl was turning over a new leaf?

"I don't believe it." Dez shook her head, looking skeptical. "No-one changes that fast, especially not that fox."

It was lunchtime, and we were grouped around the unused half-court on the far oval. Dez was surrounded by pieces of her clarinet, which she was busy cleaning, while I tried to twirl a basketball on my finger and eat at the same time. The other sat around, watching us or eating.

"I bet she's using him."

Em rolled her eyes at Bex. "Duh, that much is obvious, but what for?"

"What could she possibly hope to gain by befriending the school freak?

"It's gotta have something to do with the dance. By now she's usually busy plotting her moves."

"I guess we'll find out at the end of the month." I stood up and kicked my lunchbag to the side. "You know, I think it's so stupid how One Direction decided to do an aussie tour in October. You'd think they know that's when exams are."

"Oh, is that why the dance is being held in July?" Bex frowned. "I though the hall was being renovated."

"That too. The reno is expected to go till late September, then there's exams and the concert."

"And then there's the Doctor Who 50th in November!"

I shook my head. "There's no way your parents will let you go to that thing, Bex. You know how much they hate Doctor Who."

Bex was our newest fan. All of us were into Doctor Who- which was completely my fault, because I introduced them to it- but her parents didn't share that liking. They seemed to share the same view as my grandparents- anything strange or weird must be supernatural and avoided at all costs. They didn't seem to understand aliens and futuristic science-tech and all that jazz.

Bex acknowledged this fact with a pout, reminding me of my 4 years old sister. "It's not fair."

"But it's life. Don't worry, we'll takes lots of photos and record it on TV." I started dribbling the ball, lining up a shot. "Enough talking, I wanna practice some. Out of the way, you guys."

Grumbling, Dez shifted her broken up instrument, while the others got up to join me.

"Come on, Dez, make it an even team!"

She glared at us but quickly put her instrument away and joined us anyway, and pretty soon we were playing a rowdy game of basketball.

* * *

It was 3:1, my team (me and Dez) FTW, when a rebound bounced out of the court and into the hands of Phoebus James.

My mood was popped like a balloon as he lined up the shot and effortlessly tossed it through the hoop from the edge of the court. _He taught me that._ Not only that, but he caught it and refused to give it back.

"Aw, c'mon Phoebus!" Em leaped for the ball, but was easily side-stepped. "Give us the ball!"

"Yeah, shouldn't you be fawning over your darling Esme?" I teased.

He tossed his blond hair and looked over at me tauntingly. "You know you're just jealous."

"Not in your life!" I shot back bitterly. Watching him take another shot, I looked at the ground and shrugged like I didn't care. "It doesn't matter, guys. Come on."

Dez and Em looked at me in surprise, then grabbed their lunches and moved to follow me, but Bex stood her ground. "Give it back, please."

He began to dribble the ball from one hand to the other, a glint in his eye. "See if you can get it, little 9th grader."

For a moment it looked like Bex was going to back down, but then, quick as lightening, she kicked him. Taken by surprise and pain, he dropped the ball, which she promptly snatched up.

"Thanks," she simpered sweetly, and skipped over to us, where we went about congratulating her.

Phoebus glared at us. "Damn, Michi, your friends are fierce!"

I froze, and slowly turned to face him. "Don't call me Michi."

His eyes widened. "C'mon, you're not still-"

"I said don't."

"Mich-"

"I SAID DON'T!" I stepped back and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. "Don't even talk to me, James, ok? I don't wanna hear anything you have to say. Not any more." I turned, grabbing Dez's sleeve. "Let's go, girls."

And, surprised by what they had seen, they followed me.

* * *

Bex, the only one not aware of what had just happened, was quick to bring it up once we reached the lockers. "So what was that about?"

"I don't wanna talk about it." I put my basketball in and took out my books for the next few classes, slamming the door shut. "Let's say we have a history and leave it at that, ok?"

"Ok."

I knew Dez would probably fill her in later, so I didn't bother continuing. "Good. Now, I think I'll go to music early, if it's ok with you guys."

"Sure, but why music?"

"Cuz the art-room's too far away. See ya." Not bothering to hang around for a response, I trudged away, lost in my own thoughts.

Phoebus James and I had a history, all right, but it was hardly worth telling. Just a 7th grade romance that lasted a year and a half for me and 2 months for him, and that ended suddenly and painfully. Now, about 4 years later, I was often still prone to flashbacks and nostalgia for the only guy I had ever properly given my heart to. Pathetic, I know, but that was the way I worked. I took a long time to love, a long time_ in_ love, and forever to heal.

I entered the classroom and started heading to my usual back seat before realizing that one- the room was practically empty so I could sit wherever I wanted, and two- Quasimodo was also there already. With Esme.

He was sitting straight (or as straight as one with a hunch could be) and listening attentively to what she was saying, a peculiar glow lighting up his features_._ Esme saw me and looked away, deeming me unimportant, and turned back to Quasimodo as I found a seat somewhere in the middle. "So you'll come?"

He nodded eagerly, and she smiled and turned to go, hardly sparing me a glance. Quasimodo watched her go, and I was struck by how transfixed he seemed to be with her. I was sure he never caught a glimpse of her face as she left the room, but I saw the sneer of disgust that came over it as soon as she moved away. It made me angry that she was playing with his feelings like that, but at the same time, I wondered why I should care. He was just another poor, unsuspecting freak who was perfect for tormenting. It happened all the time. Why should now be any different?

Oh, who was I kidding. Of course I cared. I cared every time to saw Esme Azarola dedicate herself to another being's ruin. But there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn't about to stick my neck out for some kid, no matter how little he deserved what was happening to him. I was invisible, and I liked it that way.

* * *

_A group project?_ I groaned inwardly as Miss Basso began handing out the sheets. I had never liked working in a group and I worked a lot better on my own_. I don't suppose I can ask to work alone?_

"Now, I'm going to call out your names and put you into pairs. Then you'll have 30 seconds to find your partner and sit with them." She held up the roll. "Tiffany Amour and Jackson Bast. Holly Burns and Joycelyn Byron…"

_Great, we don't even get to choose our partners. _I leaned my head on my hand and stared at a spot on my desk, no longer interested in anything.

"Maxine Dalton and Hope DeMonica. Quasimodo Frollo and Michigan Greene. Bella Houston…"

I looked over at Quasimodo, not knowing how to view this development. Sitting next to him a few times a week was one thing, but how much social suicide was being his partner going to be? _Since when have you cared about social suicide? _a little voice whispered in my mind. I considered this carefully before coming to a conclusion- never.

I shrugged and turned my chair in his direction. _What the hell. Let's do this._

* * *

_**Ok, partners for music class. I wonder how this will turn out? Plz review :)**_


	5. Awkwardness and Family

_**Hi everyone! School is back (grrrrr) but thankfully it's the last term, so only a couple of months till the end of the year (YAY! But only for seniors, so everyone else will still be at school when i'm out partying :P) But anyways, here's chapter 5: Mich and Quasi's first conversation and a bit about her family. Enjoy!**_

* * *

I studied the paper in front of me, biting my lip as I read the questions on the top half of the page. All of us had separated into pairs and were now quietly interviewing each other, and I was starting to get confused as to whether this was Music or English, with the 'Get-to-know-you' activity and future essays and projects. _Fat lot of good sitting somewhere else was- I ended up next to him again anyway._ Shrugging to myself, I turned to Quasimodo and started the paper.

"OK, full name, already know that." I wrote 'Quasimodo Frollo' in the space. "And age. 16, right?" He nodded, and I wrote it down. "Ok, so, do you play a musical instrument?"

"Yes," he said, and I was struck by the hoarseness of his voice, like he was unused to speaking. Having observed him a few times before, I could readily believe that. "I-I play guitar."

"Cool, me too!" For a moment, I was strangely excited that we had something in common. "But I'm not that great at it. What about you? Are you any good?"

He shifted, shrugging non-committedly. "I don't know."

"Ok then." I looked at the list, reading the next few questions to myself. "Favourite music genre?"

"Uh… rock?"

I wrote it down, even though he didn't sound very sure. "Favourite singer or band with this genre?"

He cleared his throat, staring at his desk, mumbling his answer, and I had to lean in to hear him. "Don't really know any."

"Really?" I tried to think of some famous rock bands, but could only come up with a few. "Do you know Guns'n'Roses?" He shook his head. "What about Queen?" Another shake. "KISS? The Beatles? Totally different music styles, I know, but they're all rock." He was silent, and I was beginning to think he's never heard any music at all. "I think Elvis was rock. To tell the truth, I'm not really into rock, although I like Styx. They're pretty awesome, actually. I don't suppose you've heard of them either?"

To my surprise, the name seemed to give him a jolt of recognition.

"Do you know them?"

He nodded.

Suddenly excited again, I turned to face him properly. "Finally! None of my friends have ever heard of them, and no-one knows what I'm talking about when I mention them. But how come you know them but none of the more famous ones?"

"My mother…" He trailed off, then cleared his throat and started again. "My mother… had some CDs… that she played for me."

"Your mum's got great taste, then."

"Had."

I cocked my head, confused. "What?"

"Had great taste." He looked up, meeting my eyes for the first time. "She's dead now."

"Oh." Once again, I found myself staring into his gorgeous greens eyes, and had to hurriedly pull myself back. "I-I'm sorry, I had no idea."

He looked away. "Didn't expect you to."

I bit my lip and quickly turned back to the questions, a little taken aback and not knowing what to make of it. Part of me was amazed that we were having an actual conversation, but another part was completely bewildered by the whole thing. For one thing, I so wasn't used to talking to boys. Or strangers, for that matter. And I had no idea how to comfort someone, or whether to do it at all. On top of that, I was partnered with the biggest outcast in the whole school, and I didn't know if I would get away with it for long. The awkwardness was coming from every quarter, and I think we were both feeling it. I would've stopped our interview there but for the fact that these questions and answers were supposed to be handed in, so we continued on, albeit a little quickly. By the time I had finished, the bell was ringing and he still hadn't interviewed me yet. So I grabbed his sheet, wrote in my answers and passed it back, then exited as swiftly as possible, trying not to think about the most awkward conversation in the whole world.

* * *

The rest of the day passed slowly, and I was grateful when it was over. Later that night, while I was doing homework in my room, Angie slouched in and flopped down on my bed.

Angelina was 13, the second oldest after me. She and I were completely different, and that meant that we usually got along a lot better than the others. She was olive-skinned, a lot more tanned than me, with honey-brown hair, small hazel eyes and full lips. She was a lot less developed than me when I was her age, which I teased her about sometimes, but on the plus side, she was a lot slimmer and about 100 time more athletic. She also had some symptoms of Aspergers, which made her act strangely sometimes, and all she seemed to care about was sports and violin. She was so unlike the rest of us that we sometimes joked that she was an alien from another planet. Never caring about our teasing, she often played up to these accusations, which made this annoying but lovable girl my second-favourite sister.

Now, though, I barely acknowledged her presence as she entered the room. "Ever heard of knocking?"

"To tired for that." She examined her nails, making me jealous of her perfect hands. They were long a slim and soft, whereas mine were stumpy and boyish, and my nails were horrible from a childhood of biting them. "Highschool is so hard."

"Welcome to my world." I chucked a ball of paper at her head, deciding to take a break from maths. "Don't you have homework?"

"Did it all at lunch."

"Lucky you. How was your day?"

She made a face. "Rubbish. Hey, have you seen that really ugly new guy?"

"Who, the redhead with the hunch?" I nodded, suddenly feeling guarded. "Yeah, he's in my music class. Actually, I'm sitting next to him."

"Really? Is he just as disgusting up close, or worse?"

I pursed my lips, trying not to go off at her for being so mean. "I don't know, I don't look that close."

"True," she said, nodding innocently. "I guess no-one could bear to get up close to him. Does he stink, too?"

"No, he doesn't stink, Angie." I gritted my teeth. "Why would you ask something like that?"

"Dunno, it was just a thought."

"Well, maybe you should keep your thoughts to yourself."

She rolled over, looking at me in surprise. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. You were just being a bit mean, that's all."

"But he _is_ ugly."

"I know, but that doesn't mean you have to comment on it. He probably gets enough of that from everyone else."

"Fine, whatever." Angie chucked the paper back at me and sat up. "Oh, by the way, nanna wants your washing basket, cuz she's dong a load tomorrow."

"Ok, thanks." I turned back to my book, tuning her out. "God this maths is retarded. I swear I wont use any of this after highschool."

"I know," Angie agreed, getting up to leave. "I guess I'll leave you to it. See-ya."

"See-ya."

* * *

After she had left, I sat for a while, distracting myself by trying to balance a pencil on my nose and thinking about nothing at all. The sounds of my family echoed through the house, and I idly wondered why the little ones weren't in bed yet. I had 3 other sister besides Angie, all younger than me.

Del, short for Delenn, was next down from Angie, 11 years old and a complete airhead. Like me she had brown hair and freckles, but her eyes were grey and she was thin as a rake. A genius at music and maths, but everything else seemed so much harder to her. She reminded me of a fairy, weak and sensitive with her head in the clouds. Sometimes I wondered if she had learnt anything from living with us, since we had been trying to toughen her up for years.

Rose was next, 7 years old and very clingy. She had Del's hair and eyes, but her looks were her own, and she was cleverer than she sometimes let on. I shared my bedroom with her, and overall she was a nice, quiet room-mate.

Kate was the youngest, 4 years old and the most adorable little girl I'd ever seen. Although she was smaller than a lot of kids her age, she was by no means backward, being extremely articulate and able to recognise colour, numbers and most letters by sight at age 3. Her grown-up way of talking often had us in stitches, but we had to be careful about what we said around her, since she tended to pick up whatever she heard and parrot it back in the most inappropriate situations. She had my brown hair and eyes but promised to be a lot prettier than me, which I was completely fine with since she was my favourite sister.

So you see, my house really was packed to the rafters, housing 5 girls, my parents and my grandma in 4 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms in a house that never seemed to be clean. My parents were quite used to double than number of girls in the holidays, when the 3 oldest had our friends over, and during those times everything turned into a free-for-all.

My life may not have been typical, but it was mine, and I loved it.

I was interrupted from my mental wanderings by Rose, who came in to get dressed for bed.

"Mum and dad are watching Star Trek," she announced, throwing her arms around me for a goodnight hug.

I hugged and kissed her and grabbed my book. "Which one?"

"The one with Data in it."

I leaped up with a hurried 'goodnight' and headed for the lounge room, hoping they would let me do my homework in front of the telly.

This was my life, and I was happy.

* * *

_**hahaha, this story is so self-inserted. **_

_**Hope you liked it and please review :)**_


	6. The Beginning of a Friendship

_**Hi guys, sorry for the late update, but Jiordan Tolly got voted off, I've got the flu and I'm in a right foul mood. But I'm fine, don't worry, just as long as you guys read and review the story, everything will be alright :)**_

* * *

Amid the typing of keyboards and the soft murmurings of idle chatter, I tried to balance my laptop on my lap as I searched through the many books on my desk. Our 3rd music project was an essay about a particular band and it's musical style, and we have been allowed to choose our favourites. Now, everyone was researching and collecting information- except me. Having found a few helpful websites and already knowing enough about my singer to write the essay, I was now looking to update my stories, hence the pawing through notebooks. I had 5 of them, full of study notes and other things, with bits of chapters and stories scattered throughout, so it was a real challenge to find my updates.

Next to me, Quasimodo was typing madly. Our small chat seemed to have opened the floodgates to his research, and it gave my a strange kind of satisfaction to see him enjoying it. Since that last time, even though we sat next to each other in music and his locker was right next to mine, we hadn't spoken another word to each other. But now i felt the urge to make conversation. I wouldn't have been ashamed to admit that i was deadly curious about him, but i also felt sort of protective towards him. Although I had promised myself not to interfere with outcast- for my own protection, i might add- the fact was i wanted to be his friend. And since Esme had been showing an interest in him, no major bullying had been going on beside the usual teasing and a few silly pranks. I had nothing to fear.

I don't mind saying right now that my reasonings were almost purely selfish.

But right now, my natural shyness was getting in the way again. Last time communication had been compulsory to complete the assignment. Now, I had no idea how to start. As I hurriedly leafed through my notebooks, I tried to come up with a conversation starter._ I could ask him if he's going to the dance... no, he might think I'm fishing for an invite. Ask about his mum? No, that might seem impolite. How the hell do you talk to a guy who doesn't talk himself?_ A notebook slid off the pile and fell on the floor, disturbing the quiet, and Miss Basso looked up from marking assignments to eyeball me. I meekly picked it up and retreated behind my laptop. She may have been my favorite teacher, but that didn't mean she didn't terrify me.

I opened the book and it seemed to magically fall open on the page I wanted- a page that was now smeared with jammy handprints and wobbly stick-figures. I sighed and propped it up on the desk, then started copying the words into my document, squinting sometimes to be able to read it. And then I realized how to start the conversation.

"So, um, Quasimodo?"

He stopped typing, but didn't look over.

"Do you have brothers or sisters?" I continued typing, waiting for his answer.

For a moment I thought he hadn't heard, but at length he spoke. "No."

"Just you and your dad, then?"

"Yes."

"Ok." Already feeling awkward enough, I didn't say anything else for a little while. I felt like such a dork, but I wasn't going to completely give up just yet. "I have 4 sisters."

He cleared his throat. "Th-that's a lot."

"Yeah." I leaned closer to the book, trying to make something out. "So, uh, do you have a favourite movie?"

"I-I don't watch T-TV."

I raised my eyebrows. "Really? Lots of time to practice guitar, then?"

"Yes."

"Cool." I was getting the knack of this. "Where were you before you came here?"

"Ipswich."

"Really? I lived there for about 10 years. What did you think of it?"

He shrugged.

"People say it's a rough place, but I liked living there. Might be just me, though." I paused, thinking of the next question. "Um... So why did you move here?"

To my surprise, Quasimodo tensed up, refusing to answer, and a moment later was furiously banging on his keyboard again. I looked at him, then shrugged and went back to my own computer. "Oops, bad question."

We went on typing for the next few minutes. Finishing my chapter, I saved it and pulled my earphones out of my bag, then pulled up my music folder. While I plugged in the devices and tried to decide on Taylor Swift or Dennis Deyoung, Quasimodo finished typing and sat there staring at the screen, and I waited for him to speak.

"I-I was bullied."

I looked at him, his appearance no longer bothering me. "Oh?"

He looked down at his lap, thick fingers fidgeting nervously. "Th-they s-said horrible things, a-and they hurt me. The t-teachers, t-too. So my f-father decided to m-move us away."

I bit my lip, unsure of how to react. "I'm sorry. Was... was it Bundamba?"

"Yes."

I nodded. "My friend goes there, and she says it's a pretty bad school. I can understand why you were-"

He looked at me, understanding at once what I was about to say and accepting it with a defeated air. It put me off-guard, and I hurriedly tried to correct myself.

"Not that... I mean, I wasn't saying... You're not... Ah, damn." I buried my head in my hands, mortified.

"D-don't be embarrassed." He looked at his hands again. "I-I am ugly. I kn-know it. I-I've kn-known it s-since I w-was little. Every s-school I go t-to, I-I g-get bullied f-for it." He paused, frowning slightly. "Except here. I n-not t-treated nearly as b-bad here."

"To be honest, it surprises me too." Having recovered from my embarrassment, I decided to address the subject I had been wondering about. "Take Esme for example. She's being really nice to you, but she's not usually like that. She's been a bully for as long as I can remember. Every year she picks someone, usually a new guy, to torment and humiliate. It seems so strange to see her being kind to anyone, especially someone-" I stopped and looked down, embarrassed again, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

"S-someone like me? I-it's ok, you can say it."

Not seeing any other way to word it, I reluctantly agreed with him. "Yes, I was going to say that. I don't mean to be rude, but but it's just that I'm not used to seeing Esme like this."

"She is nice." Quasimodo's eyes got a far-away look in them, and I began to realize how much this girl was having an effect on him. "Sh-she's kind, and p-pretty, and p-probably the nicest p-person I've ever met."

I had nothing to say to that. I hadn't recently seen enough of Esme to make a determination of character, but everyone knew she was beautiful. Tanned skin, long thick black hair, large dark eyes that rivaled mine, a gorgeous size 6 figure and a chest that I suspected to be fake- there weren't many ways to look good in our uniforms, but she managed it easily. It was probably safe to say that she was the envy of every girl in the school, including the entire squad of anorexic blondes who called themselves cheerleaders.

"I suppose," I said finally.

He looked at me, surprised. "I d-didn't think about it before, b-but you're t-talking to me. Why?"

I shrugged. "I guess... I want to be your friend."

"Why?"

"Because you're different." I met his gaze, smiling a little. "And I've never been afraid of different."

He nodded slightly and looked away. "M-maybe i've finally..."

"Found a place you can belong?" I put in my earphones and selected a track. Music blared into my ears. "I hope so."

We were silent for the rest of the lesson, but I felt that I had found, if not a friend, then at least an acquaintance in him.

But his comment about her being the nicest person he had ever met stuck with me. As the bell rang and we packed up our things, I thought it over. The more smitten Quasimodo seemed to get, and the better he was treated, the more I wondered about Esme's real motives. And I desperately hoped that whatever she was planning wasn't going to hurt him too much.

I also, though I would never had admitted it, felt a teensy bit of jealousy.

But that was a thought that I immediately buried, not wanting to confront any feelings for anyone as yet. Although I wanted to be his friend I wasn't prepared to do anything other than talk. Esme Azarola was a formidable person, and not someone I wanted to cross.

* * *

_**Wasn't quite sure how to end this chapter, but I figured this would be good enough. I'm tired and sick and don't know when the next chapter will be up, but I will be updating... sometime...**_

_**Please review, anyhow.**_


	7. Confrontations and Rockin the Paradise

_**Can I use X-Factor as an excuse again? They voted of 3rd Degree and I am so mad right now, I swear Taylor only got thru cuz of the huge female fanbase. But no more whining. Please enjoy, and please review.**_

* * *

**Park Ridge State High School 2013 Concert**

**PLACES NOW OPEN  
**

**Those interested: see Miss Basso  
**

**Date: TBA**

**Reiminder-Art students: See Ms ****Trouillefou** for Halloween Dance hall decorating

Dez handed round our muffins, warm from the tuckshop oven, and nudged me as I gazed at the poster. "I'll be in that, with the senior band. Thinking of entering?"

"Hmm, maybe." I shrugged and took a bite, immediately grimacing at the taste. "Ugh, what is this?"

"Oops, must be mine." Bex examined her wrapper, then mine. "Yep, see, mine's the gluten-free one."

We exchanged packages, just in time for Indianna Brightman, cheer captain and ultimate dumb blonde, and her cheerleader friends to walk by and see. Esme was her idol, so it was no surprise that she delighted in trying to bully everyone.

"Aw, look, the little girls are sharing food now! How cute!" Indi smirked and tried to pat Bex's head. Which, of course, Bex didn't allow. Ducking away, she broke off a piece of her muffin, crumbled it in her hand, and sprinkled it in the blonde girl's hair.

"My hair!" Indi gasped, frantically trying to brush them out. "What the hell, you little freak?"

"Wha-" I was interrupted by Dez, who pushed me roughly and gaze me a look that plainly said 'do not even think about getting involved here', and was forced to hold my tongue. Meanwhile, after scowling evily and muttering threats at Bex, Indi stalked off, probably to the bathroom to finished fixing her hair, and Bex looked quite proud of herself. Dez, however, didn't.

"You shouldn't have provoked her," she scolded Bex, who rolled her eyes. "And you should've just ignored her," she continued, glancing disapprovingly at me.

I sighed, taking one last look at the concert poster before taking a step in the direction of the Music block. "Yes, mum. Just be grateful I didn't end up saying what I was gonna say. Those girls rile me up so much, I swear..."

"Yeah, I know. Where are you going?"

"Practice rooms. You'll never believe it, but Esme invited me to some kind of emergency session."

It was true. I had been coming out of English, minding my own business, when all of a sudden my notebook was snatched out of my hand. I had whirled around to see the gorgeous but terrifying Esme, leaning casually on the wall leafing through the pages. I had immediately protested- that particular notebook contained poetry, quotes and diary entries of a personal nature- but was forced to stand there watching her go through my precious book for a few minutes more. After studying a few pages with interest, she finished and tossed it back to me.

"I heard you were into writing, so I though I'd have a little look-see," she had said, airily pushing her self off the wall and standing over me- not _over me_ as such, for she was shorter than me, but her superior air made her seem taller somehow- with one hand on her hip. "I like what I see. I need you to come to the practice rooms at lunch today, ok?"

"O-ok," I had stammered, clutching my book tightly, confused.

She had smiled her dazzling smile at me, and for a moment I had forgotten that she was a big scary bully capable of anything, but when she abruptly turned on her heel and stalked down the hallway like she owned the place, I was left wondering what the hell had just happened.

Now, as surprise flitted across my friends' faces, I headed for the music block, not knowing what to expect.

* * *

Approaching the building, I heard the sounds of different instruments and the chattering of many voices. Peering through the window, discovered about a thrid of the senior band present, tuning their instruments and playing bits of songs, while a large group was clustered in front of the whiteboard. There's Nora- what does she have to do with music? And Helen, and Jo, and Kierra- it looks like half the Drama club's in there too. I peered closer, trying to make out what they were looking at. All i could see was a bunch of random lines and letters and a hand with a whiteboard marker drawing more on. They all seemed to be talking at the tops of their voices and laughing about nothing in particular, and I was loathe to go in with all those people, but i had been recruited by Esme herself. For some reason they needed me. So I took a deep breath, steeled myself, and opened the door.

The noise hit me like a tidal wave of sound, and I winced as the door shut behind me. If I was here because of my poetry, how was I supposed to write with this collection of guitar, violin, drums, flute trumpet and voices yelling reverberating in my head?

Suddenly, the gaggle of girls- oops, no, i saw a boy or two in there too- the gaggle of people moved back from the board and spit in two, revealing Esme, pen in one hand, the other on her hip, looking smug and very please with herself. Behind her was what i now recognized as some kind of floor plan for the school hall.

"Ok, people!" she shouted, somehow getting over the wall of noise that everyone else was making. Immediately, instruments and voices alike ceased. "That's better." She smiled at everyone, and her gaze came to rest on me. "Good, poetry-girl's here. You haven't been to a meeting before, so I'll explain what's happening."

I nodded, frowning a little. _Poetry-girl?_

"As probably know, I'm planning the next big Halloween Dance prank," she continued. "I've got the subject picked out and I've got the rough outline of the prank. Your job is to write us a song."

"A song?"

"Yes, a song."

I bit my lip, wondering how to get off of this. "I'm assuming that is song has to do with hu- i mean, pranking the subject?"

"Duh." Esme glanced at everyone else, smirking. "It's _about_ the subject."

"And, um, who is the subject?"

"Who do you think? That ugly lump Quasimodo, of course."

My heart gave a great thump, but not with nervousness. This time, I was angry, but I struggled to control it. "What kind of song? I need more info."

"Look, just write the song, ok? Write about how ugly he is, what everyone thinks of him, that kind of thing."

I pursed my lips, resisting the urge to deck her. "I can't."

"What?" Everyone looked at me, surprised, while Esme narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean, you can't? It's just poetry. You can write poetry, I've seen it myself."

"I mean, I don't want anything to do with this. I don't want to help you humiliate Quasimodo." I started edging towards the door.

"Hey, come back here." Esme's eyes flashed, and her mouth twisted into a half smirk, half scowl. "What are you, in love with him or something?"

"No." I looked her straight in the eye. "I just refuse to be part of your bullying." And with that, I left, not waiting to see her reaction.

* * *

_"Attention students: Will Michigan Greene please make her way to the office immediately. Michigan Greene, to the office immediately." _

I looked up from copying the sums on the whiteboard into my notebook, surprised at the announcement. I looked at the teacher, who looked displeased but nodded at me as permission to leave. Shrugging, I got up and left the room, heading for the office.

As I walked, I wondered about what had happened in the practice room, wondering if what I had done would bring Esme's wrath upon me. I also wanted to warn Quasimodo not to go to the dance, but even if I could, I doubted he would listen to me. He was to far gone on that fox to believe anything bad about her. Still, I felt I had to try.

I came into view of the office, and pretty soon I was inside, waiting at the desk. The lady behind the computer looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I got called here."

"Are you Michigan?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

Her eyes widened, realizing that I thought something bad had happened. "Oh, no, nothing's wrong. I was told to give you a message from home. Apparently your mother isn't able to pick you up this afternoon, so you'll have to wait till your father gets home from work at 5pm to pick you up."

"Is that all?"

"Yes. At home time, you'll just have to come to the office and wait for your father here, ok?"

"Ok. Thank you." I nodded and smiled, then turned away and headed out, snorting to myself. Like hell I was going to wait 2 hours in that stuffy little office.

* * *

Looking around, I walked out the door and headed for the bench outside. It was the end of the day, and instead of going to the office, I was waiting near the unused side door, with a clear view of the road so I could see when Dad came. Watching students rush back and forth at the front of the school, waiting for their own rides, I opened my laptop and brought up my music folder, and pulled a book out of my bag. It was going to be a long wait.

_An hour later..._

Sighing, I put my book away and stretched, looking around. My gaze came to rest on... Quasimodo? Surprised, I wondered when he had appeared and whether he was waiting for his dad too.

Deciding to be friendly, I took out an earphone, waited for him to look over and waved him over, patting the space next to me. He looked unsure for a moment, as if he thought I didn't mean it, but eventually he decided to obey, and I shuffled over to make room for him.

"So, waiting for your dad?" I asked casually as he sat down, taking advantage of the fact that he wasn't looking at me to get another good look at him. I didn't know what fascinated me so much about him, but I wasn't ashamed of my curiosity.

"Yes."

"Me too. Do you wait here every day?"

"Yes."

I nodded and glanced at him, finding him absorbed in staring at the cracks in that ground. Struck with an idea, I went back to my laptop and started searching through folders, hoping I'd find what I was looking for.

Time passed in silence, until finally I hit upon the right folder. With a muffled 'yesss' and a fist pump, I tapped Quasimodo on the shoulder and held out the earphone. He studied it, confused for a second, then slowly took it and looked at me questioningly.

"Put it in your ear," I said, resisting the urge to laugh.

He did, and I highlighted the entire folder and clicked play. Music suddenly blared into our ears, and I watched his face as it changed expression from confused to amazed to happy. I was so absorbed in staring at him that when I snapped out of it, I found that I had been smiling along with him. I shook my head and leaned back, arms crossed, mouthing the words and watching Quasimodo as he enjoyed the music.

"Don't need no fast buck lame duck profits for fun

Quick trick plans, take the money and run

We need long term, slow burn, getting it done

And some straight talking, hard working son of a gun," I sang, then laughed as he stared at me quizzically. Holding his gaze, I patted out the beat on the computer and contnued to sing. "Whatcha doin' tonight, I got faith in our generation

Let's stick together and futurize our attitudes

I ain't lookin' to fight, but I know with determination

We can challenge the schemers who cheat all the rules..." I stopped for a moment as his lips began to move, but continued when I realized he was singing along too.

"Come on take pride, be wise, spottin' the fools

No more big shots, crackpots bending the rules

A fair shot here for me and for you

Knowing that we can't lose

And we'll be rockin' in Paradise

Rockin' the Paradise tonight

Rockin' in Paradise

Rockin' the Paradise tonight

Tonight, tonight..."

* * *

Ten songs later, a familiar car pulled up behind the fence, and I paused the music and shrugged at Quasimodo. "That's my ride."

He nodded and gave me back the earphone. I took a moment to pack everything up, then smiled at him before getting up and slinging my bag on my back. "See-ya"

I turned and climbed the fence, then waved and got in the car. Inside, Dad looked at Quasimodo, then at me. "Who's that?"

"Some kid in my class." I leaned back and sighed as Dad pulled out into the traffic.

"Not very good-looking, is he?"

"No." I turned peered back out the window, but we were already to far away. "No, not really. But you know what? I like him anyway."

He looked at me sharply, frowning a little. "Really?"

"Not like that, you big doofus." I shook my head at my father and his over-protectiveness. "He's just a friend, Dad."

"Good."

I smiled, eyes on the traffic. "So, how was work?"

* * *

_**Well, this is kinda long. The ending kinda got away from me and was heading into obscurity, so this is the best I can do for now. Please review!**_


	8. Teasing and Hate Notes

_**Ok, so this is a bit of a filler chapter, not much to do with the story, but there's a method to my madness. Special thanks to DragonSisterKelsi, who, as always, is the most faithful reviewer. Also:**_

_**newbornphanatic**_

_**and**_

_**AndreaAndyND**_

_** Thanks for the reviews, guys. Honestly, everyone else, it's not too much to ask for!**_

_**But here's chapter 8. Please enjoy, and please review.**_

* * *

The more I thought about it, the more I felt that Quasimodo needed to be warned about Esme's plans.

But not yet. For when I got to school the next day, I found that he wasn't there.

At first, I didn't think much of it. I never saw him in the mornings anyway- it was usually closer to the middle of the day when I saw him walking down the hallway, or only in music class. But as the day progressed, I realized that I just wasn't going to see him today.

For some reason, this fact seemed to put a dampener on my spirits. Although we weren't really friends yet, I had enjoyed seeing the deformed boy every day. I wasn't completely sure why- perhaps it was the fact that he was so shy, and I liked shy people. I didn't have the faintest idea. All I knew was that when I entered music class that Wednesday and saw the empty seat next to mine, I was filled with a heavy sense of disappointment. And I found that that class was the longest it had ever been.

Strolling back to the lockers at lunchtime, I noticed a piece of paper stuck in the grill of Quasimodo's locker. I eyed it curiously, then, checking that nobody was looking, I pulled it out and opened it up. And I gasped as I read what was within.

_Go back to where you came from you ugly freak._

My hands clenched into fists, crumpling the paper, as I struggled to keep my composure. It was difficult, but eventually I regained my myself enough to be able to breath without wanting to strangle the first person I saw. I shoved it deep in my pocket and grabbed my lunch bag, slamming my locker shut with as much force as I could, and went to lunch.

* * *

I was still boiling when I sat down at our table.

"Whoa, what's wrong with you?" Dez asked as I plonked myself down on the seat, staring at my angry face with concern.

I looked at my friends and let out a frustrated sigh, pulling the crumpled note out of my pocket. "Guess what I found in Quasimodo's locker?"

Dez took it and stared, open-mouthed, at the spiteful words. Bex snatched it off her, read it, and passed it wordlessly to Em, who passed it back to me.

"How friggin horrible is that?" I asked, my voice going up a notch as the silence stretched out.

"Mich!" Dez reproched.

I gave her a look. "I didn't swear, Dez, but I feel like it. I'm just so angry right now-"

"I know." She nodded, frowning. "I agree that it's mean and hateful, and I'm glad you got to it before he did. But there's no point in getting upset."

"How did you get into his locker, anyway?" Bex asked.

"It was in the grill. Honestly, the nerve of some people-"

"But, to be fair, I can kinda see why they do it. I mean, he is ugly, and you know how much everyone like to pick on something different."

"Emma Slab, are you excusing whoever did this?"

"No, of course not, but I'm just saying, it's understandable-"

"How could you be so cruel?" I cried, glaring at her. "You sound like you don't even care about this at all?"

"And why should I?" she shot back. "What's it to me if some dude get's bullied for his looks? It happens all the time! To tell you the truth I'm just glad it's not me. I'm happy being invisible. You sound like you a care a bit too much about this."

"Mich," Dez said softly as I prepared a retort, "I know you don't like to see anyone be bullied- neither do we. But you've seen it before and it never bothered you like this. Why are you so concerned about this guy?"

"Cuz we're friends." I looked at their shocked faces and corrected myself. "Well, not friends yet, but he's my music partner. We've chatted a few times, and I like him. I can't bear the fact that he's being bullied cuz he's ugly. The poor guy can't help it."

"Well, just remember this." Em stared intently at me. "You can be as friendly as you want with him in class, but hanging out with him will make you a target, which will make us targets too."

"Not necessarily," Dez corrected. "Be friends with him if you want, Mich. But **don't** get involved. I mean it."

"You know I want to stay out of everyone's way as much as you do. I won't get involved." I ripped up the note and dropped the pieces on the ground, faking a smile.

But I think I knew it wouldn't be as easy as that.

* * *

I was quiet on the way home, so much so that mum started questioning me. I woke up the next morning determined to be cheerful, but when I arrived at school my mood dropped again. Quasimodo was still absent.

There were no more notes that day, but something else happened to ruin it for me.

I trudged into music class and dropped into my usual seat, shuffling my stuff a little too loudly. Head in my hands, I sighed, waiting for the lesson to begin.

Miss Basso looked over and raised an eyebrow. "Is there a problem, Michigan?"

"No, miss," I answered, not bothering to look up.

"She's just missing her boyfriend, miss." someone called out, and a few people sniggered.

I raised my head, shocked. "What?"

"You know," the boy said mischievously, glancing at Quasimodo's table.

"You're out of your mind," I retorted, but I couldn't stop the flush of embarrassment on my face. Was this what people actually thought?

Miss Basso saw my discomfort and interrupted. "That's enough, class," she called, clapping her hands. Instantly, every eye was on her, and I sank thankfully back in my chair. _Man I love this teacher..._

But my troubles weren't over yet. My English teacher was away, and the sub was Mrs Ekkett from the primary school. She had been my teacher in year 7, and usually this wouldn't have bothered me, since she was pretty nice if you behaved. But my worst nightmare was realized when she and a few of the girls got into a conversation about boyfriends. The exact same thing had happened 4 years ago, with an embarrassing outcome for me- I had made a random comment, something about the strangeness of the subject in context with what we were learning in class, and she had asked who I was dating. I would've said no-one, but one of the girls answered for me, and Mrs Ekkett had done a spiel about 'that shaggy-haired boy' and made fun of Phoebus' hair, comparing my then-beloved boyfriend to a dog. Now, I shrunk in my seat, hoping nothing similar would happen this time.

No such luck.

Ebony, the girl who had been the cause of my embarrassment those years ago, was unfortunately sitting in front of me. Turning around, her eye caught mine, and she smirked, obviously remembering the same thing I was. "Deja-vu, hey Mich?"

Mrs Ekkett heard and smiled also, sensing my discomfort and obviously in a teasing mood. "That's right, we did this a few years ago, didn't we? Dating anyone right now, Michigan?"

"No, miss," I answered, crossing my arms defensively and glaring at Ebony, who shrugged and turned around.

"Yes, she is! Her boyfriend's the ugliest dude in the school!" said someone, and I turned, shocked, towards Clopin, who sat smirking at me from across the room.

"He's my music partner, retard," I said, scowling as the class turned to stare and laugh at the supposed revelation.

"Oh, yeah, course he is," he laughed, nudging his mates.

For a moment, I was at a loss about how to handle this, but then I was struck with an idea. I sighed and looked at him pityingly. "Look, I know you're sore cuz I rejected you, Clopin. It's hard to believe anyone would turn you down, isn't it? But just because I don't want to date you doesn't mean I'm already seeing someone. I don't want to date you cuz I don't want to date you." I shrugged, smiling sweetly. "Sorry."

He looked away, scowling and embarrassed as the class transferred their attentions to him, and the lesson continued. The crises had been averted. But I was left feeling confused and more discontented than ever.

* * *

Closing my locker at the end of the day, I found myself being accosted by one of the sub teachers from another class, her arms full of paperwork.

"Michigan Greene, is it?"

"Yeah," I answered, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder and looking at her curiously.

"I'm Miss Cabala, subbing for 2nd period English. One of the students in my class has been away yesterday and today, and the music teacher said you're his partner in music."

"Quasimodo?"

"Yes, that's him. I have all the homework he missed from all his classes, and since you're friendly with him, I was wondering if you could drop it off at his house so that he could catch up?"

I raised my eyebrows, surprised. "I don't even know where he lives!"

"I have the address right here." The teacher shuffled the papers around and pulled out a sheet with an address on it. "Of course, if it's too much out of your way I could ask someone who lives closer to him, but I just thought since you two know each other-"

"No, this is ok." I nodded and smiled, wondering how on earth this girl got a teaching job. She was so awkward! "That's just Boronia Heights. I know where it is, it's not too far. I'll take them to him."

"Good!" Miss Cabala took out a sheath of papers and handed it to me. "Sorry, if I put you out or anything-"

"No, no, don't worry, it's fine." I checked my watch. "Thanks for that. I have to go now."

She said goodbye and left, and I hurried out, looking for the car. Getting in, I told mum where we had to go, and we headed out.

* * *

_**Ok, so kinda random, but trust me, it leads to something else. **_

_**That scene with Mrs Ekkett in yr 7 actually happened. Every word. God, it was embarrassing! I swear, teachers can be strict or nice or smart, but sometimes I don't think they care about our feelings at all.**_

_**And don't ask me why I'm making Clopin a bit mean, I don't know why. **_

_**Anyway, Mich is gonna go to Quasi's house! What do you think will happen? Reviews are appreciated :)**_


	9. Kaz

_**Chapter 9 is up! Ok, so I don't think this will be what people are expecting. I know some of you wanted a big scene with Frollo, what with being the first time she meets him and all, but... you know what, just read on, ok? **_

_**Thanks to Leslie The Sorceress and newbornphanatic for your reviews :)**_

* * *

I looked at the address i had been given and pointed to a street sign. "That's it. I think it's the house up the end."

Mum drove slowly up the street and pulled up outside a house, wrinkling her nose. "Are you sure it's the right address?"

I checked. "14 Notre-Dame Court, Boronia Heights. Yep, this is the place." I grabbed the bundle of folders and opened the door. "I'll be right back."

As I approached the little fence and half-heartedly rattled the rusty gate, I could see why mum was skeptical. The first thing I saw was the police car in the driveway. But that wasn't the only thing. Weeds wound around the hinges of the gate, making it virtually impossible to open, and as I climbed over and landed in the yard, the grass came up to my knees. Walking up to the almost invisible path, I winced as I kicked a bottle. The whole yard was messy and overgrown, littered with glass bottles of every colour, shape and size, some broken, some whole. What looked like a broken-down bike and a few rusty oil barrels added to the mess, and the pavers I walked on were crumbly and uneven. The house itself was falling to pieces, too- holes had rusted in the tin roof, and Trying to ignore the fear of snakes and who knew what else that might be hiding in the grass, I made my way to the door and paused, looking back at the car for reassurance, before knocking on the door.

After a few moments of silence, I knocked again, a little bit louder this time. Just as I thought no-one was coming and I had turned away, the door opened, and I found myself face-to-face with a man.

He had only opened the door a little, but I sized him up in a few seconds. Blood-shot eyes, stubbly face, almost completely bald, beer belly, holding a bottle... Was this Quasimodo's dad? _Poor him..._

"Whaddaya want?"

I gulped, realizing I was staring. "Oh, right, um, this is for Quasimodo, he hasn't been at school for a few days so they asked me to bring over his homework..." _And if he had been wagging, I just got him in trouble... damn... _I handed over the folders, hoping it wasn't so. "Is he ok?"

The man looked at me sharply, squinting unpleasantly. "What's it to ya?"

My eyes widened, taken aback. "Oh, er, nothing, it's just that he's my music partner and I just wondered if he's been sick or something-"

"He's fine." The man snatched the stuff out of my hands and, after peering behind me, presumably at the car that was still running on the street, slammed the door in my face.

I stood there, a little dazed. "Ok, then..." I turned on my heel and walked back, climbing the fence and jumping in the car, shaking my head. "Weird..."

"How'd it go?" Mum asked as she turned around and headed back the way we came.

"I think that was his dad... rude guy, he slammed the door in my face, and the only things he said were 'whaddya want', 'what's it to ya' and 'he's fine'. I feel sorry for Quasimodo if that's who he has to live with. And the bottles!"

"Who was that?" called a small voice from the back. I turned and smiled at Kate, who was all strapped into her booster seat.

"That was Quasimodo's dad."

"Kazi-modo's dad?"

"That's right."

She thought hard, and I could almost hear the cogs turning in her little brain. "Who's Kazi-modo?"

"My friend from school." Me and mum exchanged looks, grinning at the cuteness.

"He's got a weird name," Kate observed seriously.

"He does, doesn't he?" I sat back in my seat, staring at the road. "Quasimodo is quite the mouthful. Kazi, though... Kazi, Kaz... What do you think, Katie?"

"Kaz?"

I nodded, deciding to put the matter to my friend when I saw him next. "Kaz."

* * *

Which happened to be the next day. Walking into music class that Friday, my heart gave a weird little flip when I saw him sitting in the seat next to mine. I slid into my place and laid all my books out on the table- no clunking and sighs today! I turned towards him, feeling particularly cheerful. "Hey, you've been away." _Well, duh. Just point out the obvious, why don't cha?_ "Feeling better?"

He tensed, staring straight ahead. "What?"

I frowned at his bizarre reaction. "Um, you've been sick, right? So are you feeling any better?"

He relaxed and looked in my direction, not at me but somewhere over my shoulder. "Y-yeah, I guess."

I was about to ask what he had had when I saw it. "Oh!" I peered forward, staring at a bruise on his jaw. "How'd you get that?"

His hand flew protectively to his face and he turned away. "Oh, that? I f-fell."

"On your jaw?" I asked sceptically.

"Yes."

I couldn't help but notice that he had tensed up again. I shrugged and turned away, opening my notebook and flipping through, trying to come up with something else to say. _Well, there was that question about his name..._ "Quasimodo?"

He looked up from the desk. "Yes?"

"That's quite a long name, actually." _Again, stating the obvious. You're a genius, you know that?_ I shook off my demeaning inner monologue and continued. "Ever thought about shortening it?"

"Into w-what?"

"Well, my little sister says your name in a really cute way- Kazi-modo. So I was thinking, what about Kaz?"

He was silent, thinking it over. "H-how does she know my n-name?

"Oh... I dropped off your homework yesterday and she wanted to know whose house it was."

"That was you?"

"Yeah." I quieted down as the lesson began, but a little while later, when we had our laptops open, I continued. "Was the guy that came to the door your dad?"

"Yes."

"Is he a policeman or something? Cuz I saw a police car in the driveway."

"Yes."

"Ok." I shook my head, thinking of the man at the door and his rugged appearance, hoping he was less scary than he looked. _I certainly wouldn't want to live with him..._ "By the way, you didn't answer my question from before."

"W-what question?"

"What do you think of Kaz? As a nickname?"

He took a few moments to think about it. "I... I like it."

I smiled, relieved. "Good. So can I call you that?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

We worked silently after that, doing research, writing down notes, and I managed to snatch time to jot down bits of story into a document. As the end of the lesson drew closer, I suddenly remembered that I had something urgent to tell Quasimodo... but not there.

"I have to tell you something," I whispered, leaning in his direction but not taking my eyes of my screen. "It's important, but I can't say it here. I'll tell you at lunch, ok?"

"Ok."

We both nodded and went back to our work, and I wondered how exactly I was going to word what I had to say...

* * *

_**The nickname was kinda inspired by a pic on DeviantArt for a Disney RPG thing. I think it's cute.**_

_**Please review :)**_


	10. Warnings and Evil Plans

_**Hi guys, so here's Chapter 10- not much has really happened, story-wise, has it? I know it might be a little boring ATM, with just plans and random conversations but that will change soon. Once the dance is over, there'll be more action and a bit of fluff, too. **_

_**Thanks to Leslie, my only reviewer for last chapter. I wanted to use Quasi too but Kaz is more modern i think. And don't worry, Frollo's not all I've painted him as yet, there's going to be a lot more to his character later. **_

_**Anyway, I'll stop talking now and let you read. Please enjoy :)**_

* * *

"You w-wanted to talk to me?"

I jumped, bashing my head on the bottom of my locker door. I slapped the locker wall and rubbed my head, glaring. "Damn! Don't do that!"

"Oh, I'm sorry..." Quasimodo- Kaz, now- opened his locker and started rummaging around, not looking at me.

I shook my head, picking up my bag and putting it in my locker. "No, it's ok, you just scared me. And yes, I do want to talk to you."

"About what?"

I looked straight at him, knowing I had to be quick. Even though I liked him, I knew that it wouldn't be good for people to see us talking outside of class. "Ok, here's the deal. I was talking to Esme the other day and she said she's planning to do something to you at the Halloween dance. If you were planning on going, I'd say don't. It wouldn't turn out very well."

He frowned. "Esme is kind to me. She would never do anything to hurt anyone."

"Oh, do you really believe that?"

"Yes I do!" Surprisingly, Kaz was starting to get rather animated. "I've s-spent time with her, I've talked to her. She's a nice girl. In fact, she asked me to the dance- as in, a date! I think she likes me."

"Quas- Kaz, Esme does not like you!" I knew what I was saying sounded mean, but he needed to know the truth, and this was the only way I could think of telling him. "She's only pretending! She wants to mock and humiliate you in front of everyone, because that's what she does. You have to believe me, she could never like you the way you want her to!"

"And why not?" He looked around and lowered his voice to an intense whisper. "Tell me! Is it because I'm ugly? Because I limp? Because I have a hunch? No, I've found that the world isn't all as shallow as that. Esme _likes me_. That's something that's never happened before, and I'm not going to let you ruin the one good thing that's ever happened to me!"

My eyes widened at his furious speech. He had never spoken so many words together before, nor had he ever cared so much about something as he did this. I was about to apologize and defend myself when footsteps came up behind me, and I felt a presence behind my back.

"Ready for lunch?" Esme asked him, completely ignoring me.

"Yes." Kaz took his bag out of his locker and started rummaging around, looking for his lunch.

"Well hurry up, we don't have all day."

I turned to look at her- arms crossed, striking a pose she probably thought was sexy or something. I had envied her looks for so long, the feeling of sadness when I looked at her hair seemed natural. But I forced myself to stop and turn back, refusing to envy her now. I hated her too much for that. Beside me, Kaz found his lunch and put his bag back in the locker, moving to close it. I had to do something, at least apologise for what he thought I was trying to do.

I turned to him and raised a hand, drawing his attention."Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I'm just trying to warn you-"

He glared at me and shut his locker. "I don't need your warnings!" With that, he turned around and left, him and Esme weaving through the students that had begun to congregate in the hallway, leaving me staring at his misshapen, retreating back.

What was meant to be a friendly warning had been blown wildly out of proportion. Did he honestly think I was trying to wreck everything for him? Was he really so blind as to believe that Esme actually cared for him? Obviously, yes. I let out a long breath, angry at me, him, Esme, everyone, and closed my eyes, trying to calm down. _I came to give a warning and that warning has been given. It is no longer any of my concern..._ I slapped the wall in annoyance and straightened up, zipping up my bag and heading into the crowds of students. Kaz was my friend and he was going to get hurt by a bitch who was leading him on with the express purpose of showing him up in front of everyone. Not my concern?

_The hell it isn't._

* * *

Peering around the corner, I nodded to myself and sat down, back against the wall, pulling out a book and pretending to read. I had just spent the better part of lunchtime looking for them, and while I wasn't planning on confronting anyone, I wasn't leaving without some information. _What on earth do they find to talk about, anyway?_

"So, that's one thing we have in common- music!" came Esme's distinct voice. That voice had struck fear in my heart since we were 8 years old, and I fought to suppress the memories that bubbled to the surface at the sound. I leaned side-ways, trying to hear better. "Do you, like, play anything?"

"Yes, I play guitar." The eagerness of his voice made my heart break a little bit. He really liked her, and he really was very happy. _But that's all going to change soon..._

"Oh, awesome." I could almost see the phony grin on her face, and the casual flip of her hair that went along with every conversation. _She's so predictable._ "I don't play anything, but I sing a bit and dance a bit. Actually, I'm a dancer."

"Really? Where do you dance?" The interest in his voice and the relaxed tone made my blood boil. _She doesn't deserve his interest!_

"Oh, bars and pubs and stuff. Usually the Park Ridge Tavern, with a group. We do a bit of sexy stuff for the guys, and they seem to like it. But don't tell anyone, ok?"

_Too late._ I smiled, tucking that bit of information away._ I might be able to use that later..._

"Why not?"

I could just see her, waving her hand casually like it was nothing, the way she did when she was going to say something important. "Oh, cuz I'm underage, ya'know, for all the stuff I do there? Oh, it's nothing terrible, but still, they have rules. I had to get a fake ID, but it was worth it. The money I make is ridiculous!"

"Sounds... fun."

"I like singing better, though. I'm really looking forward to the dance, not only cuz I'm going to be with you," I gritted my teeth at her sickly-sweet tone, imagining her cuddling up to him and just as quickly banished the thought from my mind, "but because I'm going to put on a little show. With some help from band and drama, I'm going to sing a song."

"I look forward to it." He sounded like it, too.

"Yeah, it's a little project I'm working on for drama club, but it's not quite finished yet. The best poet in year 11 English refused to help us, so we have to do it on our own."

I couldn't believe she was telling him about the song that was going to ruin him! She was so casual, so cold- well, why shouldn't she be? She'd been doing this, humiliating people and making them hate her, for so long that it had become natural. God I hated her... Wait, the best poet in year 11 English? Really? Did that mean that she liked my poetry? Not that it mattered, I still hated her, but still...

"Speaking of, I should probably go. I'm in charge of planning all the entertainment, and I've just got some stuff I have to inspect. Catch you later."

I drew back and buried my head in my book, listening as she walked past. I felt her leg knock my knee, and her whisper "Nerd."

_Why thank you, I take that as a compliment_. I rolled my eyes and stood up, waiting until she was just out of sight before following her. Kaz could wait. I wanted to find out the extent of the damage I could expect from her, and then maybe have another go at warning him.

* * *

Peering through the window, I watched as the group gathered in the middle of the room around a a few large backpacks. Esme walked to the center, pushing everyone else out of the road, and reached into the first one. I strained to see what it was that she brought out, but after inspecting it closely, she put it back before I had a chance to see and flashed a smile at one of the boys. "Perfect. Go put it backstage, would you? Now, who has rope?"

"It's in here." A girl picked up another bag and drew out a coil of rope and some hooks. "I got these, too. Thought you might need 'em."

"Good. Give it to Jason." Picking up the third bag, Esme took out some plastic packets and peered back inside, clearly surprised. "What's this?"

"I didn't know which one would have the best results, so I got a whole heap."

"Good idea, well done. Carey, go get some buckets from the storeroom at the back. Jill, go with her an help her fill them with water."

"Where?"

"Bubblers outside."

Oops. I glanced at the metal tray next to me, and, as the door opened, quickly turned on one of the bubblers and pretended to take a drink. Beside me, Jill and Carey turned on the others and began filling their buckets.

"What are you doing?" I asked, straightening up and looking at them innocently.

"What does it look like?" Jill asked haughtily.

"Filling buckets, yeah I get that, but why?"

"None of your business." Carey glared at me, obviously wanting me to leave.

I shrugged and turned to go, but then turned back and fixed them with a stare. "You don't have to do everything she says, you know."

"What" Jill asked confusedly, but I was already around the corner, and she wasn't going to get anything else from me.

I stayed there, just around the corner, until I was sure they were gone, and then came back and peered inside again. Five buckets were standing on the ground, filled half-way up with water, and various students were pouring and mixing the contents from the packets, with which looked like colored powders, into them. Once that was done, Esme crouched next to them and stuck her hand inside, feeling whatever it was they had been mixing.

"This one's thick, too thick, I think. Throw it out. This one's too runny. No, no, wrong consistency. Oh!" She brought her hand out, and my eyes widened when I saw what was on it- goo! Her hand was coated in dripping green goo! What the hell is she planning?

"This would be perfect if it was thicker. Do you have any more of that one?"

"No, sorry, it was the last one."

"Wait, I have cornflour." One girl rummaged around in her bag and produced a packet of flour. "I mentioned that we were making goo at school, and mum told me cornflour is great for that."

"Great, hand it over." Esme took it and poured a little in, mixing it up with her hands. I had to give it to her- she certainly wasn't afraid of getting her hands dirty! I watched as she stirred it, and a wicked grin stretched over her perfect face. "This... this is it. We've got it. Drew, take the bucket to the hall, fill it to the top with water and cornflour, and if it isn't green enough, use food dye or ink from the art room. Hide it with the other stuff." She stood up and wiped her hands on someone's backpack. "Now, was that everything?"

"Yes. Band is nearly finished with the song, we've got all the equipment _and_ permission to help decorate the hall on Tuesday. I think we're all set."

"Good." Esme smiled around at everyone, a satisfied smile with a wicked glint in her eyes. "You've all done well. I'll see you later."

I panicked as she moved towards the door, my mind going blank for a moment, but as it opened my brain and body started communicating again, and I turned and hurried off, hoping I hadn't been seen.

What was I going to do? Esme was going to sing a horrible song and pour goo on his head (most likely, anyway) and there was nothing I could do about it, because I knew now for a certainty that Kaz wouldn't listen to me. Em was right, there was no point in stressing about something I couldn't control. Even so, nothing could stop the urge to strangle Esme and bash Quasimodo's head against the wall to make him listen to me. Though he would most likely kill me if I tried that... he looked so strong that if he was provoked, he could snap someone's neck very easily. Now to think of it, Esme would probably kill me too... if my friends didn't do it first. I shook my head, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. I did know this, though- I couldn't get involved anymore. All I could do now was sit back and watch the show.

And damn, that fact alone was killing me.

* * *

_**A bit longer than usual, huh? Just for you Leslie, just for you, cuz you asked for it. You deserved it, since you're my best reviewer :)**_

_**Yeah, so Kaz got a bit angry, which I was surprised at too. My story ran away from me again, but I hope it wasn't too bad. Actually I wrote that scene twice- the first time I was writing it in the actual text box, tried to save it but forgot the internet wasn't on anymore, and lost it. I was able to write everything again but the first version was much better :( Oh well, I hope you won't mind. **_

_**The Halloween Dance, which, as you probably already know, is basically my version of the Feast of Fools, won't be in the next chapter but in the one after that. Next chapter is hall decorating and another after-school music thing. Stay tuned.**_

_**Please review :)**_


	11. Before the Dance

_**Hey guys, one more chapter until the Dance! Thanks to the following for your reviews:**_

_**Leslie The Sorceress**_

_**AndreaAndyND**_

_**and**_

_**newbornphanatic**_

_**Coming up, hall decorating and an after-school session with Kaz and Mich. Read on!**_

* * *

Days passed, and all too soon the weekend was over.

Monday passed quietly, but I could feel the buzz in the air as people talked about the costumes they'd wear and speculated about the entertainment. Our art class was briefed on the materials and designs that would be used in decorating the hall the next day. I was a vessel of pent-up nervous energy, still angry from Friday but also filled with dread and a strange restlessness. Anyone else would think I was excited, but my friends recognized it for what it really was- the urge to tell an important secret. Only here, no-one would listen if I tried. Especially not the person it was meant for.

In music class, Kaz didn't even acknowledge my existence, and was too abashed by our last 'discussion' t try to speak to him. So we passed the entire lesson staring at our computers, the teacher, our books. Anywhere but at each other.

Lunchtime, I was forced by my own curiosity to watch as Esme flirted shamelessly with him, and he basked in the attention The urge to bash his head against the wall, shake him, slap him around, hadn't disappeared, and the urge to strangle Esme, or drop a brick on her head, had intensified. In my illogical state I felt they both deserved it, but there was nothing I could do.

By Tuesday morning the excitement in the air had doubled. Art students were let off their usual classes so that they could start on the hall early, so when the bell rang we took as much paper, paint, streamers and miscellaneous art materials as we could carry and made our way to the hall. There, we were joined by Drama, Dance and Esme, who immediately took charge. Not surprisingly, all of us who were supposed to be ignorant of the plan were assigned to work well away from the stage, where all the action would be.

As I helped hang streamers and blue-tack shiny cardboard cutouts of ghosts and pumpkins to the walls, I kept an eye on Esme and her group. Along with decorating, they also seemed to be arranging and untangling ropes and what I now recognized as a pulley system. Needless to say, watching as the evil witch and her minions arranged Quasimodo's impending doom did not put me in the brightest of moods.

After a gloomy lunch, I came back to find dance practice underway. As the girls and boys from Drama and Dance bopped and weaved on and around the stage, and Esme tapped her foot and nodded to both the dancing and her iPod, I walked over to where she could see me and stuck my hands in my pockets, waiting for her to condescend to notice me.

"How did writing the song go?" I asked nonchalantly when I had her attention.

Esme took one earphone out and, predictably, looked down her nose at me. "Very well, actually, no thanks to you."

I nodded and pretended to examine my nails, the picture of boredom, although inside I was quaking. "I thought you'd do well enough without me."

"Oh, we've done a lot better than you ever could've with you sad excuses for poetry, believe me."

_Oh, burn,_ I thought sarcastically. "That's funny, I heard that you said I was the best poet in year 11 English. But of course," I put in as she opened her mouth to retort, "Knowing you, you'd deny every word, wouldn't you? But that's fine, because I have no desire for your approval anyway." I abruptly turned and walked away, feeling a little better, and smirked when I heard her mutter, "Bitch." I was treading on dangerous ground, baiting her, but it was exhilarating in a way.

* * *

All day we worked on the hall. I was surprising how much effort it took to hang up paper and streamers, but it felt good to be doing some physical work instead of sitting in a chair all day.

That afternoon the office got another call from mum, informing me that I would have to wait for dad to pick me up again, and that this would probably be a regular occurrence. Again, the office advised me to wait inside, and again, I secretly determined to rebel.

Come end of school, as I was making my way to the side door, I passed Kaz and Esme, probably having their last deep-and-meaningful before his life was ruined forever. I clenched my teeth and ignored them, hurrying to what would soon become my usual spot.

Half an hour of frustratedly staring at a blank document with music blaring in my ears later, I saw Quasimodo come out and settle into the opposite bench, still ignoring me. And at that moment, I realized I didn't want it to continue like this, ignoring each other because both were to afraid to speak. after tonight his life would become a waking nightmare, and it was likely that we would never speak again except for the necessary exchanges in class. No matter how much I wanted to be his friend, self-preservation always came first. Now was the only time we had.

Making my decision, I collected up my stuff and moved myself to his bench. "I'm sorry," I blurted before he could say or do anything. He looked at me, a little bit surprised, and I took this as an invitation to continue, taking a deep breath and staring straight ahead.. "I'm not saying that I was wrong or that I'm sorry for saying what I did, but I'm sorry for upsetting you. I didn't mean anything degrading or nothing. It was meant to be just a friendly reminder, but I went too far. I hope you can forgive me."

There was a long silence, but when I finally looked at him, he was nodding. "Of course I f-forgive you."

"Good. I suppose we can put this behind us and never mention it again?"

"Yes."

"Good," I said again, now at a loss for words. We both looked away, still a little uneasy around each other, and I studied my blank screen for a while before bringing up my music folder. "Wanna listen to music again?"

"Yes, I-I'd like that."

"Anything in particular? I know you like Styx but do you have any other preferences?"

"Not really." He looked down, embarrassed. "I d-don't know very much music. W-what... what do you have?"

"Oh, ok... let's see." I browsed through folders and squinted at the tracks. "I have a whole folder of Taylor Swift, some One Direction, some Little Mix, some Kelly Clarkson, um... Owl City, Ed Sheeran, some YouTube stars that should be famous but aren't... I don't think any of this is 'guy stuff'." I turned the screen towards him. "I don't know if you've be interested in anything you see there, but take a look anyway."

I watch as he scanned the lists, none of the names sparking any recognition. He shook his head. "You like Taylor Swift a lot, so maybe..."

"You want to listen to her?" I nodded and handed him an earphone. "Ok." Bringing up the folder, I pressed play, and Kaz's musical education started.

* * *

Later, when my laptop ran out of charge and we were forced to actually talk to each other, Kaz asked me about my favorite song.

"Oh, that's a hard one. Probably... I think I'd have to say Everything Has Changed."

"Why?"

I smiled, shaking my head. "All of her songs are so relatable, and almost all of them seem to be taken from my diary sometimes. But even thought I haven't yet had a situation like that in Everything Has Changed, it's pretty much my favourite song at the moment."

He mulled on this. "How... how do the songs apply to your life?"

"Oh dear..." I bit my lip. "That would require a bit of background. Are you sure you're up for a sob story?"

He nodded.

"Ok, well... most of the relatable ones now are break-up songs, but 'You Belong With Me' was the first. When I was 12, I had this huge crush on Phoebus James. I adored him. And that year, that song came out, and I was always singing it, cuz it was like it had been written for me. Then we went out, and then we broke up, and it almost killed me. I should've listened to that column, cuz they were so right about young boys not being interested in romance..." I fought down the memories that were rising up, knowing that if I gave in to them, I'd probably start crying. "So anyway, after that, break-up songs were my thing, and I think the best one is 'Cold As You', cuz he was cold. Damn cold. Every day before and during our relationship we would play basketball on this little court with his friends, and it was like a place that was just for us. When I tried to go back, I took a friend with me cuz I didn't know how I'd be received, and he... he_ flirted_ with her, right in front of me. I couldn't believe it. Here we were, he had just broken up with me through my friends, not even face-to-face, and now he was flirting with my best friend who was right next to me. Who _does_ that? So yeah, I'd say I'd never felt anything as cold as him. There are others, but those two stick out for me."

By this time I was almost talking to myself, but I was jolted out of my depressing memories by Kaz, who hesitantly touched my arm. "I'm sorry," he said softly, looking at me properly for once.

I smiled a pained smile, blinking away my tears before they could fall. "It's fine. It's completely alright. That was nearly 5 years ago, I've gotten over it."

Kaz shook his head, and I knew that the only person I was fooling was myself. "Really?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I waved him away, sniffing. "Don't worry about it."

"Ok." He turned away.

"But thanks for caring." I traced patterns in my laptop lid, a little embarrassed for having burdened him with my past. "That's sweet of you, Kaz."

"You... You're welcome."

We sat in silence for a while, until a car pulled up and I jumped up, stuffing my laptop in my bag and heading for the fence. "See-ya."

"Bye."

I stopped and turned around. "Oh, by the way, good luck with your date tonight." What possessed me to say it I had no idea- maybe a chance of another warning?

"Oh... thanks."

I pursed my lips, wanting to try again, but then I shook my head and climbed the fence, racing to the car and dumping my stuff inside. Looking back, I sighed.

"You're going to need it," I said softly.

But he never heard it, and I doubt it would've done much good if he had. I waved forlornly and got in the car, and settled down for the ride home.

* * *

_**Guys do you realise what I did when I gave Quasi another nickname? I made an easy name smoosh! Like Leslie has pointed out, Quasigan and other smooshes just don't work. But... Kaz + Mich = Kish! I hearby dub my couple 'Kish'.**_

_**Anyway, don't hesitate to review, and look out for next chapter, where sad things will happen...**_


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